


Red Wine Revelries

by racheleves



Category: British Actor RPF, actor tom hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4355618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racheleves/pseuds/racheleves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An intimate, friendly evening cooking turns into much more with the simple introduction of Al Green and more than enough red wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Wine Revelries

**Author's Note:**

> I know I posted "Don't Rain on My Parade" first but Eve actually was born out of this piece first. I just really like writing smut, okay, guys?

_An intimate, friendly evening cooking turns into much more with the simple introduction of Al Green and more than enough red wine._  
  


“Taxi’s a little slow – on my way tho’!”   
Never a text Eve was tired of seeing; who would, knowing the sender was a strikingly gorgeous 6’1 British stunner? Not that was something she ever openly say to him in seriousness. No, beyond making fun of his hair which was in actuality devastatingly perfect, Eve and Tom kept it to provocative teasing. After rummaging for the always missing cork-screw, she took a long draught on the new cabernet she’d picked up. A necessary pre-emptive move knowing the aforementioned dream boat would soon be in her kitchen. Eve busied herself with supper prep while the boys of the Buena Vista Social Club crooned softly in the background. She’d always been partial to them as her cooking music, and had successfully tuned Tom onto them as well.

Almost on cue, her apartment door burst open and there he was, a dark jacket carelessly slung about his person. He dropped his luggage, and with an overly comical grin on his face, he started salsa-ing his way towards her.

“Wrong region, wrong style of dance!” Eve laughed as he engulfed her in a hug, the slight scent of Dior Fahrenheit and a body warm from long hours travelling engulfing her senses. Hugs from tall men were far superior to any other and Tom didn’t disappoint. He drew back, eyes bright and clearly enthused to be here in her kitchen, hands still gripping her shoulders happily.  
            “Eve Wicks, I don’t care.”  
            “Well watch the damn knife, anyways!” She brandished the long handled blade at his compact torso. Mostly just to get him away from her circle of personal space before she lingered a little too long in that hug. He danced away laughing and shifted his luggage out the doorway. He shook his hand through his tousle of curls and dragged his fingers across his eyes.  
            “What a damnably long flight; if I spend another minute in a pressurized cabin, it’ll be too soon. Frig the inflight booze, it’s not worth it.” Eve flourished the wine bottle in his direction.  
            “Well I insist on plying you with a little more, because I tried a new label, Smoking Loon. It’s an excellent buy and has been opening up beautifully, so I’m going to make you at least taste it.”   
            Tom took a long mouthful equal to her own and smirked while examining the back label.  
            “Not sure I get the plum.” He said, drawing out ‘plum’ into an upper crust, hoity-toity accent. Eve swatted him, trying to ignore the feel of his sculpted shoulder under her palm.  
            “Fine, more for me – top up.” She evened out her glass and did the same for him. Tom suddenly sagged against the range, his tall frame stooping with exhaustion.   
            “Can I ask a huge favour and jump in your shower? Again with the plane ride; I just need to wake myself up a bit.”  
            “Not a problem. You know where the towels are.” Eve often wondered about their level of familiarity. Her friends always badgered her about it.   
            “No guy friend I have _ever_ had has known the details of my linen closet, let alone stays over as much as Tom does with you!” her friend Talia stated with a raised eyebrow over their weekly Tuesday brunch. Eve could recall exactly fidgeting with her fork distractedly.   
            “It’s only like that because he so often shows up after travelling. I’m not going to exactly refuse hospitality am I?” Talia sipped her coffee, a smirk peering over the edge of her cup.  
            “Oh, come on Talia.”  
            “Nooo, it’s not like I’m going to point out that most people head straight home after days of continental travel, but where does this man head? Your place.” Eve laughed along with her but to say that it hadn’t occurred to her would have been a straight up lie. It would have also been another straight up lie if she said she didn’t love the fact that Tom showed up at her doorstep first, bags and all to eat and drink and indulge in TV dramas with her after meandering the globe. It would be another lie to say she didn’t lie facing the door the nights he stayed over, which was more often than not, willing her eyes to drill holes in the doors and walls to see into her spare room. She suddenly refocused on her hands resting on the counter, knife still in hand and willed herself back to diligently chopping onions and garlic. She heard the water go on the next room over, trying not to think too much about a naked Tom in her shower and how easy it would be to sidle right in next to him, steam billowing around their bodies…

 _Jesus Christ, Eve get a fucking hold of yourself._ The track switched over to Taj Mahal. Of course, blues, right to get you in that strip-tease mood. _Back to cutting, back to cutting, back to cutting…  
            _ “ _You’ve got to looooove her with a feeling, or don’t you love her at allll…_ ” Onions done, garlic done, onto peppers. Absentmindedly, her hips swayed in time with the throbbing base line, gyrating ever so slightly. She couldn’t help it, blues just had that effect on her.

“Nice moves, Wicks.” She yelped, jostling her wine glass with her elbow, red spilling across her counter tops, and splashing to the floor.  
            “Jesus, Hiddleston, nothing like a bit of a warning that you’ve re-entered a ro-.” Eve’s voice caught short at the sight of Tom leaning in her kitchen doorway, wrapped in nothing but a black towel, chest glistening from the wet of the shower. He started toweling his damp hair, laughing. Wishing her chest hadn’t immediately flooded with warmth, she bent over to mop up the rest of the wine, avoiding starting at his compact torso and strong arms. He himself couldn’t help but look at her well-built thighs and legs in their tight black jeans, thicker than most from all the weight-lifting she did and he was having trouble not wondering how soft they must feel free of clothes.        

“Don’t mind me, just abusing your kind hospitality. I’ll get dressed out of respect for your delicate sensibilities.” He said, blowing a mocking kiss in her direction, stepping out of sight of the kitchen again. She sent a jeering face at him.

“Oh hardy harr harrrrr.” Eve could feel her skin tingling and hated herself for it. He didn’t want her that way. The number of striking women he was around on a day to day basis was ridiculous; there was absolutely no reason for him to have any feelings beyond friendship for her. She hadn’t been able to deny how appealing he was since the first time they’d met.

Eve was a singer and performer, not full time, but whenever she was asked to do gigs she could never turn them down. Performing thrilled her in such a specific way - there was nothing like giving your all with a song and jiving with the music. One of her industry acquaintances and good friends had called her, almost a year ago now, to sing some jazz standards at a fundraiser event.

“Our diva can’t _possibly_ sing tonight apparently, though her fucking voice sounds fine to everyone else, but she’s insisting. Please say yes, you’re the only other person I know who knows the damn songs.” Sam’s voice on the end of the line had been pleading and Eve knew she couldn’t possibly say no. His coordinator’s job was stressful enough as it was.

“Okay, but you better make this worth my while.”

“All you can drink champagne and a nice lump of cash?”

“Done.” She said, laughing.

She’d shown up, done up for the occasion in a simple floor length black gown - no need to outshine the guests. But Eve secretly loved a reason to break out her best costume jewelry and smoky-eye makeup skills. It was a straight forward enough set up, but while on stage it was hard not notice the one person completely enthralled with her performance. Usually at larger events like this, the entertainment wasn’t a sit-and-watch type of gig, closer to background noise. Eve kind of liked these settings more because she didn’t have to feel people’s eyes on her as much. She couldn’t help but be aware of one dim face beyond the glaring set lights that didn’t move much from watching the stage. After her set, a glass of champagne had barely touched her lips before she was accosted by a smooth and sultry British accent.

“What an amazing set! Your voice is stunning!” She rounded on the boyishly charming face and tall frame of this very earnest stranger.

“Thank you! I don’t often get people approach me much in noisier, bigger set ups like this, so I appreciate that.”

“Tom Hiddleston, I’m one of the richie benefactors funding part of this evening.” He said by way of explanation, extending a hand. Eve couldn’t help but notice the slim fingers and large palm without smirking inwardly satisfactorily; he certainly was a looker.

“Eve Wicks. And well, you’ve got a good spread going here.”

“Absolutely lovely to meet you. And well, I heard that you graciously saved this ‘spread’.”

“I guess, if that’s what people think, but it was the least I could do for an old friend.” He grinned again, his tongue dancing between his bright pearly whites.

“Well I don’t know who could have improved on you.” Eve felt her heart jump a little. _Oh my god, you get compliments like this at all your gigs, calm down._

“Again, the least I could do.”

“You do Lady Day the proper homage with the gardenia.” He grinned, gesturing to the delicate flower in her hair. Eve could feel her blush rising and a smile creeping across her lips.

“I’m glad you got the reference! It’s a little overt but sometimes I can’t resist going over the top for these sort of things. They do feel quite showy at times so why not make it a costume?”  
             “Well, I can’t speak to it personally, but you do pull it off quite marvellously. Mind if I join you in enjoying this exquisite champagne?”

They spent the rest of the evening downing drinks and exchanging exclamations over a shared love for all the same music. Tom slapping his knee with uproarious laughter after Eve’s Louis Armstrong impression and she likewise giggling at his cheesy dance moves. It wasn’t only till the cleaners came out and the hall had emptied that they parted ways. Sam had stopped by her place the next day with her check.

“I see you and Mr. Hiddles really hit it off.” Eve snatched the envelope from him.

“Oh come on, you know I hit it off with anyone who simultaneously enjoys Chet Baker and Tom Waits as much as me.” She said, a pout on her lips.

“Okay, no need to sound whiny, merely making an observation.”

“It’s not like I’ll ever see him again anyways.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Eve stopped, a coffee cup half-way to her mouth.

“You didn’t like, give him my number or anything?”

“No, nooo, but it’s just I’ve been at a number of events where he’s been present, and not to sound presumptuous buuut I’ve never seen him take a keener to anyone like that before.” Sure enough, a package showed up a week later, a full collection of Billie Holiday vinyl with a note that read: _For the modern Lady Day – thank you again for the lovely evening_. From gifts they went to snail mail, then texts and calls and then they were hanging out more often than not, running to get coffees, Eve introducing him to Tarentino films and him making her try craft beer.   
  
                                                                         ~  
  
        On one particular warm April afternoon, Tom insisted on surprising her. He wouldn’t give any details except to hurry her along into his car, playlists already primed and waiting, snacks and thermoses of tea tucked in the back.   
            “Tom, seriously, where on earth are we going? You know I hate guessing AND surprises.” He snapped on his seatbelt and gave her a flick on the forehead.  
            “I know - that’s half the fun, getting to bother you so. But you’ll like it. Trust me.” They drove for hours, winding roads leading out of the city, Eve trailing her hands in the wind, sun pouring across her lap. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself as they took a sharp turn off the highway and suddenly the car was hurtling along miles of ocean. He heard her gasp and straighten up. Eve didn’t have a car and hadn’t gotten to do the exploring of the country side of London as often as she would have liked. And he knew she missed the ocean, though she never said. She grew up next to it and he could tell urban London life made her antsy.   
               “Hey, slow down a bit, would you?” He obliged and suddenly she unclipped herself and started wriggling up out of the window. Tom almost swerved off the road.  
               “Jesus Christ Eve! What are you doing?”  
                “Just keep driving straight and slow Thomas! Don’t be a dick.” She had perched herself on the rolled down window, leaning across the top of the car. He could hear her exciting yelling and laughter. Eventually she popped back down in, and he could feel the cold radiating off her skin. Her cheeks were flushed and she look beyond exhilarated.  
               “This is more than I could have asked for.” He threw her a trademark grin.  
               “Well, we’re actually not even at our destination yet.” Her face was puzzled, but she settled back to tap her foot on the dash along to M83 and munch poppy-seed crackers.   
                 The sun was starting to set when he brought the car to a stop. He turned to her.  
               “I wanted to show you this. I know it was a long drive, but… this was the beach I’d always make stops at on my term breaks.” She was shivering in her coat but obligingly they climbed the small dune in front of them.   
                “Oh my.” In front of them was a massive stretch of beach with almost white sands, the brilliant, fiery expanse of the setting sun illuminating its wideness. Eve couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen so much sea and sky. She looked for Tom to find him standing just behind, carrying a duffel he’d retrieved from the car. He stood, hand on hip, a smile fairly bursting from his face at her quiet reverence for the sight. After setting up a driftwood fire, Tom showed her the place on the low rock overhangs where he and his school buddies carved in their initials. She let him regale her with stories from his school days while they picked at their picnic food and laughed at his rolled up trousers and yelping when he waded into the nippy waters. Just to prove that he could.   
               The evening passed on until the night sky revealed the twinkling immensity of stars above them. Clucking, Tom straightened out their blanket so they could lie back. As always, Eve was awed by the other visible universes and reminded of how absolutely tiny they really were on this planet. How short their lives were in the grand cosmos and scheme of things. But how blessed she’d been to have been born healthy and have the opportunities she had, to see the world. She turned her head ever so slightly to really look at Tom’s sharp profile gazing up into the heavens. For the first time in their friendship she felt herself looking at his boyish, handsome face with something more than kinship. Eyes drifting to his sculpted lips, she was suddenly possessed with the question of what he would be like to kiss. The thought immediately put her heart racing and she quickly pointed her own face back up at the sky. They lay there in a content silence, until, unanimously they decided to get back on the road. The drive back took twice as long, for Tom was driving at half speed so to let Eve’s head fall on his shoulder, asleep. He wished with every fiber in his being that his heart wasn’t panging with longing.

~  


Tom reappeared in the kitchen in illegally tight, dark jeans and a fitted white Oxford, highlighting his broad shoulders. Eve could smell how fresh and clean he was, cologne reapplied, and she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through his damp hair and give him another reason to want to shower again.  

“What can I do to help? Actually, a better question than that one, what is even on tonight’s menu?”  
            “Trying something new, roasted red pepper and garlic pasta and sautéed string beans and portobello mushrooms.” An enthusiastic groan made its way out of his mouth.

“Remind me to start bringing you with me on press tours. I’ll never skip meals again.” She playfully swatted him.  
            “You shouldn’t be skipping meals anyways, you arse.” He feigned sad with a pitiful puppy dog face that would have melted a glacier.  
            “I don’t mean too, but the stuff they provide at the hotels is mediocre at best and it’s better for my taste buds if I just pass. And I get busy.” Defensive now, his brow knotted jovially.

“Oh give it up.” Eve said laughing at his goofy expression “I wouldn’t be dragged along like your maid anyways.” She winked at him over stirring the pot.

“I, madam, am offended.” He said, playing at a huffy tone, hand to his chest.

“Aren’t you always?”  
            “Shut up.” He nudged past her, reaching for the shaker to salt the water. Annoyingly, he gave her head a small shove as he leaned back.        

“Thomas! Don’t insist on acting hyperactive here tonight.”  
            “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Although there was a twinkle in his eye that hinted Eve was into a night where he was in one his touchy-feely moods. Not that she minded it; any excuse to cozy up to him was a good one. They both leaned back against the countertop in content silence, sipping their wine. He then gestured to the couch.

“Up for some House of Cards before food? I haven’t watched any episodes without you.” Tom flashed another dazzling smile her way.   
            “You know I’m always up for a little Kevin Spacey, but I’m surprised you restrained yourself.” She flashed an equally coy smile at him.  
            “Come now, you could hardly blame me, being cramped up in hotels so often means Netflix is all you have on occasion!”

“Hardly, Thomas.” Eve said, with a teasing eye-roll. The furniture at her place wasn’t nearly as lux as the pieces at his flat but it was comfortable at least, and she had a half decent TV with Chromecast. Being amongst Tom’s expensive belongings always made her too acutely aware of their monetary differences, but somehow the two of them being at her place never brought up the same feelings. So, more often than not, he crashed at hers. Which led to a habit of keeping her spare bed and bath compulsively clean in case he wanted to spend the night. In all honesty, it was cleaner than her own room.

She set up TV and soon Frank Underwood’s affected Carolina drawl filled the room. They always perched close to each other on the sofa, Eve not being able to help herself since she was consistently always cold and Tom radiated heat like a small sun. Tonight was no exception; when she shifted position and her icy feet brushed his bare ankle, he yelped.  
            “Good God woman! C’mere…” Before she could say anything he’d pushed her feet under his legs and dramatically thrown a blanket around her. Because of the slightly awkward position of her feet, Tom stretched out, one long arm lazily thrown over the back of the sofa so Eve rested snugly upright against his chest. She hardly dared to breathe. It was more than he had ever accepted in terms of physicality.

Tom was barely able to not draw her closer and let his arm grow tight around her form. God, he wanted nothing more, that and to play with her tousled hair, but this would have to do. He was keenly aware of the sweet smell of her Moringa-flower perfume combined with her myriad of hair products. He felt his heart would fairly burst having her this close. It was so curious how physically aware he was of her. Even on occasions when they were around other people, her presence had a synchronous pull on him, like two opposite poles. He always found himself drinking in her wildly gesticulating hands while she talked, her rounded lips and bright eyes.   
            After one episode of oohing and aahing over the bureaucratic dramatics of the Underwoods, the kitchen timer set off alarmingly, startling Eve to jump up and make a run for the stove-top.   
               “Well shit, I nearly burned that, but, hmm, yea…needs a little more salt.” She was speaking to no-one in particular, an endearing habit Tom was fond of when watching her cook. He felt his own chest flush at the intimate scene, marveling at how easy it would be for them to be together, just a simple as this evening and every other they’d spent in content camaraderie. The iPod dock shifted over to Al Green, “Let’s Stay Together” and instantly they were both singing along with over-exaggerated faces and little hip wiggles. _One of the better perks of sharing the same taste in music,_ Eve thought, _a sing-a-long partner._

She danced away in the direction of the kitchen island to refill her glass, still singing and prancing. Suddenly Tom’s throaty voice was near her ear.

“I love watching you sing, you know.” He was leaned next to her, his intense blues starting into her hazels.   
            “Oh?” Eve chuckled nervously, trying not to let him hear the tightness in her throat.  
            “Mhmm. Always have. Your vibrato is lovely.”

“Didn’t even need formal training. People pay to be taught that shit; all natural baby.” With another nervous laugh, she retreated in the direction of the stove-top with the pretense of checking the food. Tom was just as edgy as she was, but he was admittedly doing a better job of hiding it. She looked downright delicious in her tight jeans, and flowy jersey top, which clung fetchingly to her ample breasts. He was surprised she hadn’t caught him staring in any one of the innumerable instances he had been unable to keep his eyes off them since they’d met. Even the way her short hair fell across her eyes held him enthralled. But crossing that line in the sand would mean no going back to the companionship they had now. And she had never so much as made one saucy comment beyond friendly teasing into the direction of anything more. Hence his iron-clad will to stay at a friendly distance, which was getting broken down a little more each time he came back from being away and saw her, or heard her lilting voice on the phone. Hearing it quietly singing along with Al Green now was doing a number on him. The last of his resolve crumbled watching her deftly slip a finger into her mouth to taste the sauce, distractedly swaying again.

“May I?” He was suddenly very close to her again. Hand out, reaching. Eve was confused.  
            “What?” He tapped his own throat gently.

“Your vibrato. Mind if I feel it?” She was instantly put off, a loss for words - she wasn’t going to say no. At this point she was pretty much incapable of saying no to any request of his.

 “Anything to sate your curiosity, Tom.” He grinned almost wolfishly at her, unable to keep his elation under wraps.  
             “ _Loving you whether times are good or bad, happy or sad…”_ She felt his fingers wrap gently around her throat, just below her chin. Keeping up singing was increasingly difficult when she was so acutely aware of how close his body was behind hers. She wanted nothing more than to press back into him and feel those fingers tighten a little more. How on earth he wasn’t aware of her slamming heart under his touch was beyond her.

 _“And if you mess with me, you can’t set me free…”_ She felt his index finger move and trail ever so lightly up just over her chin. His other hand drifted to brace himself on the edge of the counter, bringing his body closer to hers. _Fuck, this is not ‘friendliness”, s_ he thought. But being past the point of caring, she tried to keep the catch out of her voice when his hand tightened ever so slightly. And suddenly his lips were on the back of her neck, warm and firm, the length of his lean body pressed to her in full.   
            “Jesus Christ, Eve.” He murmured into her hair. She was fairly trembling now, no longer singing as his hands trailed down across her breasts, to her stomach, her thighs. She almost couldn’t bring herself to twist around and face this reality, but she did. Her stomach was instantly hot and flooded with burning heat. Tom’s eyes met hers, the closeness making her want to squirm. His warm palm rested on her chest, thumb rubbing her collar bone rhythmically. Both were wholly wrapped up in the sensation of their bodies pressed together. Tom brought both his hands to gently grip her neck, struck by how small she felt to him. Eve was hyper conscious of her still thumping heart, she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. With the silent chemistry people who have long been attracted to each other have, they both wordlessly came together, Tom kissing her deeply. The taste of him lived up to everything she had imagined he’d be, his hand now firm on her back, gripping her to him. It was an indescribable hunger, built up so much they were both an explosion now when they could finally get their hands on each other. His tongue leisurely swept across her lips and she couldn’t resist catching it with her teeth and giving it a nip. Tom started at the slight pain, grunting, and then dragged his mouth to her neck, the scent of her warm, flushed skin getting him harder with every second.

He threw her around against the island, she scrambling to hoist herself on top of it and yanking him closer with her thighs. She was able to feel his mouth form a grin under hers.

“Fuck.” He was everywhere; lips at her neck again, leaving small nips, hands still tight on her waist. Her desperate fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and in a moment they silently agreed to yank it up over his head, hers too. Skin to skin she could feel the heat of him against every inch of her, his chest unbelievably firm. He deftly unclipped her bra, which fell to the floor along with the other articles of forgotten clothing. He leaned her back on the cold stone, making her shiver and her nipples taut in an instant. Burying his face in her breasts she could hear him groan.   
            “Bedroom?” It was almost as if his husky voice could only manage the one word. They were instantly scrambling, bumping off doorways, stripping their jeans as they went, awkwardly trying to keep their bodies together. They collapsed against her covers, Tom hastening to be on top of her, lips together again, then trailing down her breasts, slowing across her stomach and then her thighs. She felt herself groaning and squirming as those tantalizing lips did everything except move to her clit.

“Tom, oh my god, please, just…please.” He nipped the thin skin at her inner thighs.   
“You don’t get it yet.” He went back to planting small kisses around the edges of her

pussy, the top of her legs, her stomach, both his hands simultaneously stroking her breasts. She could feel herself getting wetter and wetter for him and she couldn’t help but knot her fingers in his curls and try and push that teasing mouth down. Immediately he was face level with her and her both her hands were pinned above her head by one of his.

            “You think you’re gonna’ tell me what to do?” He growled, the low thrum of his voice sending goosebumps down Eve’s body.   
            “No, but you’re prolonging this shit more than I can stand.” She heard the whiny note in her voice, embarrassed a little that he’d reduced her to such a state in such a short time. He slipped one long finger in his mouth, which mesmerized Eve to watch it pass over his sculpted lips. Then suddenly it was between her legs, swirling wetness over her swollen clit, immediately making her moan and causing her legs to draw up tightly. He smirked.

            “Is that what you want?” His lips trailed along her jaw line, breathe hot in her ear.

            “Jesus, yes pleasee..” Two fingers slipped inside her and then his lips and tongue were all over in long licks and strokes so that she could barely maintain her composure. He looked up from between her thighs, blue eyes still ever so scorching.

            “You don’t have to hold back darling, not at all.”

            “I’m just afraid of bothering the neighbours.” Eve groaned, audibly panting now. A chuckle slipped out of him, vibrating across her middle while his fingers plunged in and out of her, tongue working slow long licks across her lips and clit.  
            “Oh jesus, just fuck me Tom, fuck me.” Her back was arched and tight, unable to move away from this bliss and not wanting to. He paused.  
            “Oh?”  
            “Please.” It was nothing more than a whisper. But Tom took it to heart; he had been waiting for her to say it. In one swift movement he reached a strong arm under her back and drove her hips around to get her on her stomach. Eve could feel his strong, taut runner’s legs, which she was fond of admiring in his trousers, between her knees.  
            “Keep your hips up.” She obliged, almost ready to beg for him to take her. He leaned over her, only letting the tip of his cock slid into her wetness. She wriggled her hips desperate for the whole length of him. Torturously, he refused to let her, only continuing to tease her with his tip, slowly, in and out, in and out, agonizingly delicious. He suddenly plunged forward, allowing himself as deep as he could go, with an audible shudder and gasp.  
            “Fuck, Eve, you’re so damn tight.” Eve could only comprehend the perfect hardness of Tom’s cock filling her up again and again. Biggest she’d ever had, easily. He suddenly pushed her down, his cock driving into her so that she was fully on her stomach. A hand snaked around her throat, tightening so that she gasped and all she could focus on was the wet movement between her legs.  
            “Do you like feeling every inch of me in your tight little pussy?” Tom’s voice was tight and drawn, sweat beading on his chest making both him and Eve slick as they collided together.  
            “Yes.”  
            “Yes what?” Eve didn’t even have to guess.

            “Yes, sir.” Tom let out another pleasurable growl and then pulled out long enough to throw her on her back and throw a leg up over his shoulder.   

            “I want to see your face when you cum. Touch yourself. Now.” That voice, that command, it was enough to make her tighten again up and groan, louder and louder, and him thrusting faster and faster.   
         “Shit, I can’t keep this up much longer.” He moaned. Ever suddenly pushed him back only to throw him on his back and straddled his cock. Gyrating in her earlier manner, she rode down on him in fast circles. Tom couldn’t take it anymore; her yanked her to his chest, arms wrapping her waist to keep her still while he plunged in and out of her at a maddeningly pleasurable pace.  
He couldn’t hold back and neither could she, both racked with pleasurable waves, Tom’s breathe hissing between his teeth, his cock throbbing, Eve barely containing her loud, keening moans. Tom collapsed next to her, grinning and then rolled over weakly to face her. Likewise grinning and flushed she looked over at him breathing fast. A finger across her collarbone, eyes warm. His eyes trailed over her body slowly before leaning over her to kiss her full and soft. Pulling back, he propped himself back up on an elbow and grinned again.  
            “So, is the pasta still a go?”


End file.
